Page 85 of The Rules We Broke
He picked me up and twirled me with that boyish grin. “Yes, my heiress.”
When he set me down, his eyes shifted—more serious now.
“Will it bother you that you have more money than me?”
“Brady Jackson, how could you ask me that?” I stepped closer. “You know I don’t care about things like that. I never asked for my aunt’s fortune. Doesitbotheryou?”
He paused. “No. I just want the woman I love to know she can count on me—to take care of her.”
I touched his cheek. “She knows.”
He kissed my palm, then smiled like a man with a plan.
“That reminds me—I’ll be right back.”
He disappeared out the door and returned with a white box tied with a red bow.
We walked into the kitchen together, and Brady handed me the white box as we settled at the counter.
I carefully slid the ribbon off—always trying to keep the bows intact, like some small tribute to the moment. Inside, nestled in crisp tissue paper, was a cream-colored wool coat with matching faux fur-lined leather gloves.
I pulled him into a hug. “I love them. Thank you.”
“As much as I love seeing you inmycoat,” he said with a grin, “I figured you could use one of your own.”
He was so thoughtful. I modeled the coat for him, twirling once. It fit like it had been made just for me.
We finished putting dinner together while he told me about his day. Doris had left lemon chicken in the oven. I tossed a salad while Brady set the table, stealing kisses between utensils and place settings.
It was nearly perfect. I could imagine doing this every night—for years. And all I had to do was say the word.
But I wasn’t ready. Not just yet.
Over dinner, I told him about my conversation with Aunt Lu. I kept my tone measured, careful not to lace it with anger or judgment—no matter how tempting it was to call his parents out for their past. I stuck to the facts. Brady didn’t seem upset. If anything, he looked quietly reflective.
Later, as we curled up on the couch together, I rested my head against him and asked gently: “Did you know our parents used to be neighbors? And your grandparents adored my aunt? They were best friends with my grandparents.”
“I had no idea,” he said, surprised. “My grandparents died when I was a toddler. I don’t even remember them.”
He pulled me closer, his warmth grounding me.
“Ellie . . . I know this sounds terrible, but I’m glad our parents didn’t end up together.”
I’d thought the same thing earlier, and the guilt still lingered. Isaac had been my aunt’s Brady. She’d loved him the way I loved the man sitting beside me.
“I know,” I whispered. “But hearing her talk about your daddy—it was heartbreaking. Has he ever told you why it ended?”
Brady kissed the top of my head.
“Darlin’, what’s all this about? Does it really matter what happened all those years ago?”
“I just want to understand why your parents hate me so much.”
He turned toward me, his eyes steady and full of quiet fire. That beautiful face, shadowed with stubble, looked more serious than I’d seen it all day.
“I told you—they have no bearing on how I feel about you.”
“They’re your parents,” I breathed. “Are you really ready to cut them out of your life for me?”
